


The Holly and The Ivy

by dirtymudblood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jealousy, Miscommunication, Mistletoe, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:21:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27674630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtymudblood/pseuds/dirtymudblood
Summary: “Actually,” Hermione interrupted, “I’m so glad because… because I’ve been seeing someone too and I was going to ask how you’d feel about me bringing them to the Burrow.”Ron’s jaw dropped and Hermione’s fingers tingled. Take that, Ron.“Who?” He shouted, bewildered.She hadn’t thought that far ahead.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 76
Kudos: 1088
Collections: DFW Tropes Fest: Double Trouble, Kelly's Picks





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Tracey for looking this over for me. Trust me, this fic was in rough shape before her.  
> Also an apology to the trope fest mods because I could not, for the life of me, stop at 8k words. It's a sickness. 
> 
> My trope prompt: Fake dating

“I just don’t want you to feel, you know, awkward.”

What a good man. What a wonderful, considerate  _ fucking  _ gentleman Ronald Weasley was. 

Hermione sipped her tea carefully, letting it burn her tongue lest she let it say something she knew she’d regret. 

While to their friends and family the breakup was mutual, it was decidedly  _ not.  _ In fact it was  _ completely  _ one sided, on his side. But, in the interest of amicability, Hermione had let him respond to any inquiry with “it was a mutual decision”, “still friends”, “wish the best for each other.”

In reality, they hadn’t spoken for weeks. Ever since Ron had stepped through the floo of their shared flat and announced that he felt as though they had lost the connection that had brought them together in the first place. Apparently, not living in a tent in the middle of the woods being chased by madmen really changes your relationship dynamic. 

Hermione had moved through the first few steps of the breakup grief pretty quickly. She had stood there, her mouth opened as Ron listed off the (evidently many) reasons they did not belong together. 

She laughed when he had finished, instructing him stop being daft and to wash up for dinner. And when he remained still in the entrance of the fireplace, the flat became a flurry of thrown clothes and strings of expletives. Some of which Hermione made up. None of the words seemed to  _ fit  _ how truly despicable she found Ronald Weasley at that moment. 

He had calmly collected his belongings from the floor and stepped through the floo, calling out  _ “The Burrow”  _ and giving his now ex-girlfriend a sad, pitying look. Hermione thought it was more a pity that he was gone by the time the trinket she threw shattered in the fireplace where his head would have been. 

The depression came after the madness. The crying, the sniffling, the screams into the pillow. Hermione had never thought herself to be one of  _ those  _ girls. The one whose lives were inexplicably ruined by a breakup like she had read in romance books when she was younger. She had laughed at them, at the female character’s pain from the loss, because Hermione was  _ so  _ much stronger than that. She would  _ never  _ let a man make her feel pathetic or insecure.

But now she understood. They didn’t feel pathetic or insecure. They felt hurt and betrayed. 

She and Ron were a forever kind of couple. Like Molly and Arthur or Ginny and Harry. They had been through everything together, no one else in the world could understand the loss and pain they shared. The people they loved that they lost. They knew all there was to know about one another. 

Hermione was always a planner, ever since she could first read a calendar she had her times and priorities mapped out. It was how she excelled in school, it was how she kept herself sane. And she had a plan. She would work her way up to a supervisor of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Before she was 30, she and Ron would marry then and have perhaps one or two well-behaved children, before becoming the youngest Minister in history just as their children were entering Hogwarts. 

And now that was ruined, shattered in pieces in her fireplace and strewn about the floor with his clothes. 

She had spent the weekend that way; rotating between the refrigerator, the couch, and the bed. Sleeping, eating, crying, repeating. 

By the time Monday morning had rolled around, she was the physical embodiment of a mess; matted curls hidden in a bun to be dealt with later, dark circles, and permanently glassy eyes. 

If there was a God, he would have had mercy on her that day of all days. Perhaps given her a short line at the coffee station or an easy elevator ride to her department floor or, blessedly, a day without a run-in with Malfoy. 

Instead, between the seemingly  _ longer  _ line and the packed elevators Hermione was late for the first time to work  _ ever.  _ And of course Malfoy would notice, lounging in her office chair as she arrived and twiddling his thumbs. 

_ “You’re late.” _

_ “And your perception skills are impeccable, as always.”  _

_ Malfoy’s eyes flickered down to her empty hands, “No coffee today?” _

_ “Line was too long,” she sighed, throwing her bag onto the desk in front of him and beginning to unpack: ignoring his presence in her chair as she worked around him. “Somehow the Ministry can’t shell out a few extra galleons for another coffee stand, but Merlin forbid we don’t have another marble statue carved for the foyer. If I stayed in the line any longer I would have been inexcusably late.” _

_ Malfoy assessed her quietly as she worked in front of him, “You should have just stayed in line. It seems like you need it, you look like shit.”  _

_ “Malfoy,” Hermione sighed, giving him an exasperated look, “as much as I love our banter, really I do, I just don’t have the energy today. Do you mind?” _

_ She attempted to focus on her work, but felt his eyes remain fixed on her. “What happened?” _

_ “It’s none of your business.” she hummed, signing off on another document before Draco plucked the quill out of her hands.  _

_ “Technically whatever it was made you late, and therefore affected the timing of my morning, so the least you could do is humor me.” _

_ Hermione aggressively grabbed the writing instrument back, “If you must know…” she trailed off and swallowed thickly. “If you must know, Ronald and I broke up this past weekend.” _

_ Malfoy was silent and Hermione did everything to avoid meeting his eyes, which would surely be mocking. _

_ “Oh, thank Merlin.” _

_ Hermione rolled her eyes. As sad as she was the past few days, it was refreshing to feel something else, even if it was irritation for the man in front of her.  _

_ “Malfoy--” _

_ “I was beginning to insult your intelligence. I’m glad to see you’ve found some sense--” _

_ “He dumped me.” _

_ Draco blinked. Hermione took a little pleasure in rendering him speechless, but the feeling was quickly squashed by the awkwardness of the silence between them.  _

_ He cleared his throat loudly, “Well, this has been nice. I’m going to go.” _

_ He hopped up from her chair and sauntered to the office door. Hermione blew a piece of hair out of her face. At least she would be getting some peace and quiet now.  _

_ An hour later, after a short bathroom break, Hermione returned to her office and spotted a steaming cup of coffee on her desk. Cautiously taking a sip, she smiled softly.  _

_ Malfoy always made the best coffee, exactly the way she liked it. He did have his moments.  _

And working with Malfoy did have its moments. He was sharp and quick witted, Hermione never had to explain her ideas further as he tended to always understand her. And as much as he was still a prat, there were moments Hermione couldn’t help but feel a certain friendly affection for him. 

He was certainly handsome, anyone would be lying to say otherwise. Not only did he have conventionally attractive features: tall, broad shouldered, wispy blonde hair. But he had other, unique features that made you want to stare longer. The other ladies in the office would blush at any brush of fingers during a file transfer or a superficial, flirtatious joke he would make. 

But between Hermione’s relationship with Ron and Draco’s with Astoria Greengrass, who he had become betrothed to after Hogwarts; there was no reason for her to dwell on that fact. 

“Hermione?”

Oh, right. Christmas. Awkward. Hermione blinked at Ron’s concerned face sitting across from her at their shared, or used to be shared, dining table. “It wouldn’t be awkward.”

After that morning with Draco and the coffee, once the caffeine had knocked some sort of sense into her, she vowed to ignore Ronald Wealsey all together. She sent his things via floo and locked the connection, sent back all his letters, and ignored his attempts to contact her. 

It wasn’t until Ginny had written to her a few days earlier and urged her to meet with Ron,  _ “I can’t say much but it’s important”,  _ did she finally return his owl.

It had now been exactly 5 weeks since their split and the moment Ron stepped through the fireplace, Hermione felt like nothing had changed. Except when she reached out to embrace him, even as a friend would really, he held up his hands to keep her back, “We shouldn’t.”

Right. Because everything  _ had  _ changed. 

They sat at the table, waiting patiently for the kettle to boil while Ron twitched nervously in his chair. 

“Is something the matter?” Hermione asked.

It was like a flood gate, “I’ve started to see someone and I know the hols are coming up and I want to bring her to the Burrow to meet everyone and I know even if we’re broken up you’re still absolutely welcome but I needed to tell you because if you’d feel too weird about it then--”

Hermione’s breathing seemed to stop. She forgot how to swallow.  _ Already? _

She was still pressing his old sleep shirt to her face to sleep and he had  _ already  _ started seeing someone who he wanted to bring to the Weasley holiday celebration to meet everyone? She felt sick. 

Instead, she stuck a plastic smile on her face, one that hurt her cheeks, “That’s great, Ron.”

He paused in his ramblings, “Huh?”

“I think that’s  _ great  _ you found someone, it’s  _ wonderful  _ actually.”

“Really?” he asked skeptically.

“Yes, absolutely.” Hermione stood suddenly at the sound of the kettle whistling and poured them both a cup, her knuckles white on the handle. 

“I just don’t want you to feel, you know, awkward.”

“I wouldn’t be awkward.”

He gave her an uncertain, pitying look. Hermione wanted to smack him. Smack him and kiss him and beg him to come back home. She didn’t need his pity, she didn’t want it. In fact--

“I’m not sure--”

“Actually,” Hermione interrupted, “I’m so glad because… because I’ve been seeing someone too and I was going to ask how  _ you’d  _ feel about me bringing them to the Burrow.”

Ron’s jaw dropped and Hermione’s fingers tingled. Take that, Ron.

“ _ Who?”  _ He shouted, bewildered. 

She hadn’t thought that far ahead.  _ Fuck, uh-- _

“I can’t tell you yet, we’re-- we’re keeping it private for now.”

“ _ Private,”  _ Ron snorted. “Private but you want to bring him to the family celebration.”

“You’re one to talk,” she hissed back. “Who’s this stranger you’re planning on bringing?”

“You know her-- Astoria Greengrass.”

* * *

Neville wouldn’t do. That boy couldn’t keep a secret worth his life and they all knew it. If he and Hermione had started dating, it wouldn’t have been a secret. 

Dean was too close with Ron to agree to lie about a fake relationship with his ex-girlfriend. 

Seamus was as gay as the days were long. 

She could ask Ernie, but they barely knew each other. It would not be the most convincing performance. 

Hermione sighed, crossing off the last name on her list and throwing her head against her desk. She had to leave for the Weasley’s in less than 48 hours and she had no plan. Perhaps she should just take the loss and humiliation of not showing up all together. 

She was coming up with different excuses when Malfoy walked through the office door, without knocking. 

“Privacy is a virtue, Malfoy.”

“You know Granger,” he dramatically plopped into the seat in front of her and stretched out his legs. “After so many years working together I thought we’d moved past knocking and closed doors.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “What if I was in the middle of something I didn’t want you to see?”

Draco chuckled. A husky sound that would have made a lesser witch wet their knickers. “Anything  _ I’d  _ want to see?”

“Vile. Truly vile.” 

He shrugged, throwing a pile of papers onto her desk, “I need these signed before lunch so I can deliver them to Mr. Burk.”

“Fine, fine,” she sighed, beginning to pen her name on the papers while Malfoy fiddled with the different objects on her desk. She assessed him carefully, “Malfoy, I didn’t know you and Astoria had split.”

He raised his eyes and quirked an eyebrow, “I didn’t know you cared, Granger.” 

“Well I was expecting some extravagant Malfoy wedding, no expense spared. An open bar. Single, rich wizards.”

Draco snickered, rolling an hourglass in his hands and watching the sands fall back and forth. “I’m deeply sorry my ruined nuptials interfered with your plan to seduce wealthy men. How’d you find out anyways?”

“You really want to know?”

Draco sighed, “Don’t make me beg because I won’t.”

“I had a visitor last night. Ronald came to tell me that not only did he move on in record speed, but that he was bringing her to the Weasley’s holiday celebration and that I might want to reconsider going. And guess  _ who  _ this new girl is?”

Hermione waited for him to explode the way she had when Ron left that night, but was shocked when he gasped and laughed loudly. “Get the fuck out of here. Are you joking? Oh Merlin that’s good. That’s too good.”

“You’re not angry?”

“Am I angry that my cunt of an ex has moved on from  _ me,  _ the most eligible bachelor in the entire UK wizarding world,  _ maybe  _ even the entire UK, to  _ Ronald Weasley  _ who--”

“Watch your words, Malfoy,” she warned, giving him a pointed look. She still felt protective over him, even if whatever Malfoy was going to say would technically be right. 

“No, Granger, I’m not mad. I’m thrilled, honestly. Let her be miserable,” he shrugged. “You shouldn’t care either. It shows what kind of man he is to choose  _ her  _ over  _ you.” _

“Careful, that might sound like a compliment.”

“My reputation will survive. Anyways, what will you do now for Christmas?”

“What do you mean?”

“You just said--”

“Yes, but I’m still going,” Hermione responded haughtily, “I’m not going to miss out on an important tradition because of Ron’s rebound.”

“Let me get this straight,” Draco began carefully, leaning forward in his chair. “You’re going to go to Weasel’s family’s house, alone, while he cuddles up with Astoria Greengrass? And somehow that’s better for your pride than just not going?”

“No, I--” Hermione blushed. “Nevermind.”

“What?”

“I… I sort of, I mean, I told him that I would be bringing someone too…”

“You didn’t,” he gasped, scandalized, “who are you going to bring?”

Hermione slid the list of names across the table, full of scribbles, “Evidently, no one.” 

Draco hummed, looking over the list with furrowed brows. Hermione watched him carefully. He  _ was  _ handsome. Smart, too. He was the one person Ron hated more than anyone. And he had a personal stake in this as well. 

Above that, it would be a real kick in the face to Ron to see that  _ Draco Malfoy,  _ the most eligible bachelor in the entire UK wizarding world (and maybe the entire UK) wanted  _ her.  _ It would surely make him see his mistake.

“Hey, Malfoy, what are you doing for Christmas?”

Draco didn’t look up from the paper and snorted, “With a dead mother and an imprisoned father? What do you think-- No, absolutely not.”

“What?”

“I know what you’re thinking and no. No, no, no.” 

Hermione stuck out her bottom lip, “Come on, Malfoy. Get in the giving spirit. You’re not doing anything anyway and I know you always love a chance to pull one over on Ron. And--  _ And  _ rub it in the face of your ex. I won’t ask for anything else for Christmas from you, please?”

“Don’t give me that look,” Draco covered his eyes with his palms. “I hate when you do that, my mother used to do that. I wasn’t even going to get you anything for Christmas.”

“And now you don’t have to! Please. It would…” she trailed off and Draco finally uncovered his eyes. She gave him the most pitiful look she could muster, “It would mean a lot to me.”

Draco bit the inside of his cheek, narrowing his eyes at her, “I won’t wear one of those stupid sweaters. I’ve seen them and I hate them. I don’t care what you have to do, I will not be wearing one.” 

Hermione sighed in relief, “So…”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll start packing tonight.”


	2. Chapter 2

It snowed that morning, but Hermione insisted they apparate and walk to the Burrow. 

“Fucking hell, Granger,” he huffed, lugging his luggage through the thick snow. “Is there a reason we’re walking through a fucking blizzard?”

“It’s barely even flurrying out now, you big baby. And I just need some time to talk myself up before we go in.”

“You couldn’t do that, I don’t know, while going through the floo? The  _ warm  _ floo?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. She knew this wasn’t the best idea. She didn’t even know how everyone else, besides Ron, was going to react. Maybe they’d kick her out all together for bringing him to their home. 

“We’re here anyway. Be nice,  _ please.” _

She stood in front of the door, not making a move to knock. Draco came up next to her and nudged her shoulder, “Where’s that Gryffindor courage I’ve heard so much about?”

Hermione nodded, giving him a thin smile before lifting her hand to knock lightly. So lightly that no one would ever hear it inside.    
“For fucks sake I’m  _ cold,  _ Granger.” he leaned forward and pounded on the door before it was pulled open by a smiling, sparkling eyed Molly Weasley. 

Her smile faltered momentarily when she saw Hermione’s guest. 

“Hermione,” she cooed warmly, “I’m so happy you’ve decided to come. And… And Mr. Malfoy, you’ve gotten so… tall since the last time I saw you.”

If it was anyone else, the interaction would have been awkward. But Draco, the charming Slytherin he was, smiled politely, “Thank you for letting me come, Mrs. Weasley. Please call me Draco.”

Molly’s smile was relieved, “Come in, come in. You must be freezing.” 

Draco gave Hermione a pointed look over his shoulder as he followed Molly inside. 

The loud bustle was familiar. The smells were the same, the decor was just as she remembered. And still it felt… different. 

“Hermione is here,” Molly announced to the house. “And her… her guest!”

George came bounding down the stairs, stopped midstep when he spotted Malfoy. “Oh, brilliant. Oh this is  _ brilliant.  _ Ron! Ron come say hello!”

There was a muffled response from above and Hermione swallowed harshly. She felt Draco’s shoulder brush against hers and it was a comfort to know that he was just out of place as she was. What a world they were living in where Draco Malfoy was the one giving her comfort. 

Molly gestured for the pair to move into the living area to say hello to the rest of the family. They were laughing and talking loudly and Teddy bounced happily on Harry’s knee as he spoke to Ginny. She was actually the first to see them, her eyes widening as she stopped mid sentence to her husband. 

“Ginny, wha--” Harry began, following her eyes to see why she had froze so suddenly. He practically choked when he spotted the tall, well dressed blonde blocking the doorway with his enormous body and a tiny, familiar brunette pressed up close. 

The rest of the room had gone silent as well, all waiting with baited breath for some sort of explosion or a  _ got you  _ moment that never came. Hermione was beginning to feel out of place, swaying on her feet and picking at her nails. 

She felt Draco’s thumb press a soothing circle on the small of her back and she shivered at the unfamiliar, but surprisingly not unwelcome contact. She breathed out a shaky sigh at the small ounce of courage Draco’s touch gave her and smiled, “Hi everyone. You know Mal--Draco.”

They were still sitting in shocked silence, blinking at the pair and at each other. Draco cleared his throat loudly, which caused Teddy to look up from Harry’s lap. 

Even Hermione was shocked when the little boy gasped, “Dwaco!” and his hair turned a stark shade of blonde. Harry was too numb to move as Teddy scrambled from his lap and ran across the room, holding his arms up and balling his hands into fists. 

Draco scooped him up and ruffled his newly blonde hair, “Mr. Edward, my how you’ve grown since I last saw you. You’re almost as tall as me now.”

It wasn’t true, Teddy dangled from one of Draco’s arms, but it made the boy giggle excitedly. The sound seemed to snap the rest of the room out of its shock as they began sporadically greeting the pair. 

“Let me take you to your room and then you can come down for supper,” Molly instructed, gesturing to the staircase behind her. 

Draco detached Teddy from his arm and plopped him back on his feet, watching the boy waddle over to his godfather and crawl back into his lap. Hermione could tell Harry didn’t know what was more shocking: his presence as a guest to his best friend or the undeniably… adorable relationship he had with Teddy. 

Draco grabbed their bags and followed Molly up to the landing, Hermione following close behind. Molly led them to Bill’s old room, with its modest full sized bed and cozy, simple decor. 

“I hope this is alright.” 

“It’s perfect, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you again for letting me stay,” Draco shot her a toothy smile as he placed their things on the quilted bed. 

“Come down when you’re ready, dinner should be done soon!” 

Molly closed the door softly behind her and Hermione rounded on Draco. 

“You know Teddy?”

Draco snorted, not looking up from unpacking his clothes, “Of course I do. He’s my family. The last of it, he and Andromeda. I see them every Sunday for breakfast.”

Hermione blushed, twiddling her thumbs together, “Sorry, I just… I didn’t know.”

Draco looked at her, his face amused. “You never asked. It’s fine. At least I have another ally here, Edward loves me.”

“You call him Edward?” Hermione wrinkled her nose as she began to also unpack her bags.    
“Of course, Teddy is an unbecoming name for a member of the Black family.”   
“He’s a member of the  _ Lupin  _ family,” Hermione said pointedly, throwing a sock at his chest. It bounced off and rolled into his suitcase while he snickered. “Besides, no child wants to be called  _ Edward.”  _

“Well then perhaps they shouldn’t have named him that in the first place, hm?” 

Draco was surprisingly… fun. In an arrogant, pompous, sarcastic way. His humor was dry, but when you caught the slide twitch of his mouth and knew he was kidding; it made it all the more endearing. She couldn’t remember the last time she and Ron had joked like this where it hadn’t ended in some kind of argument. 

Her heart squeezed painfully at the thought of her ex, who was somewhere in the house gallivanting with his new belle. 

“Hello?”

Hermione jumped. 

“Sorry?” she asked, shrinking under Draco’s concerned look.

“I asked if you were ready to go down for food. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Hermione licked her lips and nodded, “Yes. Yes. Just nervous about… seeing him and…  _ her.” _

Draco rolled his eyes and while a quick feeling of offense flooded Hermione, it was quickly quashed when he said, “Granger, he’s the one who fucked up. Not you.  _ He’s  _ the one who should be nervous. Now come, you made me walk through a mile of snow and I’m starving.”

* * *

Ron had reacted almost exactly how Hermione had expected. 

Red faced, hands balled into fists,  _ “Malfoy? You brought Malfoy to my house?” _

The couple had found surprising allies in the rest of the Weasley family, including Harry, who had worked collectively to calm Ron down enough to sit for dinner. 

Hermione was more shocked at the way Astoria had reacted to seeing Draco. While he lounged against the doorframe lazily as Ron had his fit, seemingly uncaring, Astoria was all wide eyed and fidgeting. Hermione narrowed her eyes at the girl who seemed almost entirely put off by Draco’s presence. Hermione made a note to ask Draco about it later. 

Now they all sat at the dinner table, everyone talking loudly and ignoring a fuming Ron who sat directly across from Draco. 

Teddy sat to the left of Ron and was making small shrieking noises to the red-head to get his attention. 

“What?” Ron huffed. “What is it?”

Teddy smacked a hand next to his plate and then shrieked again, “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

“He wants you to cut up his chicken.” 

Ron sneered and turned his attention to Draco, who had ceased eating and stared back at him, “And how would you know?”

Draco rolled his eyes, reaching over to the other side of the table to grab Teddy’s plate. He carefully cut the food into small, appropriately sized pieces before placing it back in front of the toddler who smiled contently and began feasting quietly.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see Draco giving a pointed  _ I told you so  _ look to Ron and she had to hold in her laugh at Ron’s newly reddened cheeks. 

Ron had never been very good with children. Never knowing what to say or how to say it or what was  _ appropriate _ for a child. It was always a source of tension between them: although Ron had grown up with a big family, he had no desire to have one. And Hermione had always known, among her other dreams and aspirations, she wanted to be a mom. 

Draco was good. Maybe it was just because it was Teddy, who was his family, but he somehow understood his toddler garble and was patient with his tantrums. It was almost heartwarming. 

She felt Draco nudge her foot with his.  _ Are you okay? _

She knocked her knee against his thigh.  _ Okay.  _

It was a code they had created during meetings to communicate with each other. 

He tapped two fingers on the table.  _ Follow my lead.  _

Hermione turned to him, her brows furrowed. He smirked and, with a casual glance to Ron, reached forward with his thumb to wipe an invisible crumb from the corner of her mouth. 

“You had a little something,” he grinned, “I got it, don’t worry.”

Hermione opened her mouth to give a witty retort, one that would solidify the point to Ron, but she couldn’t form words. His hands were so warm and so large against her face. Even the smallest touch of her mouth made her lips vibrate in anticipation. She was blushing fiercely, unable to turn away from Draco even as he resumed eating. 

“Hermione,” Ron’s angry voice came from across the table. “Can I talk to you? In private?” 

Hermione’s stomach rolled nervously and she saw Draco’s face out of the corner of her eye. He was glaring venomously at the redhead, his fork clenched tightly in his fist. He played the jealous boyfriend convincingly well. She nodded and stood on shaking knees, trying to compose a cool, unaffected persona, “Of course. Kitchen?” 

Ron was pacing. It gave Hermione some sense of satisfaction that her plan really was working. He was angry. He was jealous. 

“ _ Malfoy?”  _ he snapped suddenly, causing her to jump. 

“Yes,” Hermione crossed her arms. “And what about him?”

Ron scoffed as if she was stupid. It was something Hermione always hated; how he could think so poorly of her judgement even after all this time. “Really, ‘Mione? Do I  _ need  _ to remind you? It’s Malfoy. Evil, Death Eater Malfoy--”

It made her stomach roll and sink. A wave of protectiveness for the man coursed through her,  _ “Dont,”  _ she hissed. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

“You’re mad. You’ve lost it,” he laughed, “he’s probably using you, I wouldn’t put it past him!”

_ Oh how wrong you are,  _ Hermione thought,  _ I’m using him. _

“He’s great, actually. He’s smart and sweet and he appreciates my ideas--” Hermione stopped, suddenly aware that she wasn’t even  _ lying.  _ He  _ was  _ all of those things. And he had given up his quiet holiday to help a co-worker. One he didn’t even particularly  _ like.  _

“You don’t have to like him,” Hermione sighed. “But you have to respect that he’s my guest here. Goodnight, Ron.” 

She left him red in the face and sputtering madly behind her. 

Draco was waiting for her on the staircase, arms crossed and leaning against the railing. Hermione blushed, he had probably heard everything. The rest of the house was quiet as the rest of the Weasleys retired to their respective rooms. 

“Are you really considering getting back together with  _ that?”  _

His voice was so rough, in a way he had not spoken to her for years. It was accusatory. 

“I love him.” 

“And that’s enough?” 

Hermione stared down at the floor, feeling like a scolded child. Draco sighed and rubbed his eyes, “I’m sorry. I suppose it’s just a side effect of being around so many Weasleys for too long. Come on, let’s get you to bed.” 

They were silent as they ascended the staircase and got ready for bed. When Hermione returned from the bathroom, Draco was transfiguring several of Bill’s left behind clothes into blankets and pillows.    
“What are you doing?”

“I for one am not used to sleeping on the floor,” Draco said, “So I’m attempting to make it as comfortable of an experience as possible, Merlin willing.”

“Why would you sleep on the floor?”

Draco sputtered, actually looked scandalized as he blinked up at her. “I may be an arse, but I’m still a gentlemen, Granger, I wouldn’t let you sleep on the floor--”

“Why don’t you just share the bed with me?” 

If Draco’s eyes could get any wider, they would fall out of their sockets. Hermione blushed. “I mean-- I just-- It’s just a  _ bed  _ and we’re both  _ clothed--  _ sorry-- I’ll just--”

But Draco was already getting his things situated on the bed, “Listen, I’d be a fool to refuse sleeping in a bed instead of on the floor, especially with a pretty witch. As long as she stays on her side and doesn’t snore.”

Hermione’s blush deepened at the compliment. She knew he was just teasing, but it made her feel good. Feel pretty, for once. 

Hermione crawled onto the bed next to him, facing the other way. He was so broad he took up most of the bed, even laying slightly on his side. Hermione huddled to herself as they laid in silence. She shifted slightly and her arm brushed up against his.    
“Sorry--”

“It’s okay--”

They stayed in the awkward silence for a moment until Hermione finally broke it. “Malfoy?”

“Hm?” he hummed sleepily. 

“Why was Astoria so nervous to see you?”

He snorted. “Probably never thought she’d have to face me again.”

“Why’s that?” She felt him shift and their arms brushed again. 

“Probably because I told her if I ever saw her again I’d hex her bald.”

Hermione turned her head slightly to glance at his face. “What happened?”

She felt him tense behind her. “Does it matter?”

“Sorry,” she whispered quickly, “I’m too nosy sometimes, you know that.”

The room fell silent again.

“She cheated on me,” he said suddenly, “with Blaise, you might remember him from school. He was in Slughorn’s club. She… she liked him and she liked my money and she found out she couldn’t have both.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, nudging his foot with hers on the bed.  _ Are you okay? _

He sighed and rolled over, his shoulder pressed against her back, “It’s fine. She did me a favor if anything. Pureblood marriage contracts are binding. And it’s not my problem anymore. Everyone knows Weasley got a hefty sum of money in reparations and has a good, well paying ministry job that keeps him away. What more could she want?” 

Hermione hummed. She thought that she would feel bad for Ron, she thought the information would make her want to go to his room, kick Astoria out on her cheating blonde arse, and take him back for herself. But she didn’t. All she felt was the anger for Ron and the sympathy for the man lying next to her. 

“She’s a cunt.” 

Draco laughed, too loudly for the quiet room, “I know she is… so is Weasley.”

“I know.” she said quietly, turning to face him. 

His eyes were bright, even in the dark room. He was a warm, comfortable presence next to her. Her stomach twisted as her eyes flickered to his lips, illuminated by the sliver of light coming from the window. She leaned forward slightly, only a centimeter or two, before Draco sighed. 

“Get some sleep. Goodnight, Granger.” 

Hermione blinked, aware that she had been mere moments from kissing him. How could she be so irresponsible? He was here to help her. He was here for a… a  _ favor.  _ This wasn’t real.

“Night, Malfoy.” 


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning was Christmas Eve. It had snowed the night before, flakes clinging to the window next to the bed that shone light into the room. It was what woke Hermione, the yellow light shining directly in her eyes. 

She groaned, trying to twist and turn her head away to fall back asleep. But there was something heavy holding her down. Something warm and strong. 

She opened her eyes a sliver and had to hold back a gasp at the bare arm that was draped over her waist. 

She had never been much of a cuddler with Ron, always preferring her personal space while she slept. But it had also never felt like this. 

She was tucked under Draco’s chin, his slow and steady breath tickling the hairs on the top of her head. His arm was slung protectively over her and his hand splayed over her blanket covered stomach. It felt warm and safe and welcoming and Hermione couldn’t help the way she curled back against him and let her eyes droop. 

When she woke again, he was gone and the bed beside her was cold. Hermione groaned, flipping over a pillow to cover her face. She should have extracted herself from his embrace when she had the chance, he probably woke up and—

The door creaked open softly and Hermione lifted the pillow off her head and peeked up.

Draco was standing in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist and water droplets clinging to his chest. His face was still slightly flushed from the heat of the water and Hermione blushed at the sudden rush that made her nipples pucker under the blanket.

“Sorry,” he said, “I thought you’d still be asleep, I forgot my clothes in here—“

“It’s fine,” Hermione said quickly, rolling over to face the wall, “I’ll just… go ahead.”

She listened to him rustle around the room, shimmying on his clothes. “I’m decent.”

Hermione turned over. He looked quite handsome in his green jumper and comfortable looking black corduroy pants. 

“You look nice.”

Draco smirked, running a hand through his wet hair that made it stick up adorably, “So do you.”

Hermione looked away, blushing. She knew she didn’t; her hair was always the most wild in the morning and she knew her face was creased with sleep. 

“Is everyone awake?”

She saw Draco nod from the corner of her eye, “Yes, well, Potter and the littlest Weasley are awake. So are the parents, but everyone seems to still be in bed.”

Hermione nodded. 

“I’ll head down and let you get ready.”

He grabbed his wand from the bedside table as Hermione quirked a brow at him, “You’re going down alone?”

He shrugged, “They can’t kill me. I’m a guest, that would be rude.”

Hermione rolled off the bed and caught Draco’s eyes flicker down to the line of exposed skin on her stomach as she stretched. “Have fun.”

“I won’t!” He bid in a singsong voice.

* * *

It was like walking into the twilight zone. 

Hermione bounded down the stairs, expecting to find Draco in some sort of disagreement with one Weasley or another. Instead, he was  _ laughing.  _ Not only was  _ he  _ laughing, but so was everyone else.

Save for Ron and Astoria, who were similarly sitting crossed armed and pouting on opposite sides of the couch. A small piece of her, one that she knew was holding on to the idea of a future with Ron, was pleased that her and Draco’s presence had put a rift between them.

Teddy was slung over Draco’s arm, giggling and howling wildly as he tickled the child mercilessly. 

“Stop it, stop it,” he loudly yelled between breaths. 

Draco drew his hand back at Teddy’s request. 

Teddy took gulping breaths of air before situating himself back into Draco’s arms. “Again!” 

Everyone laughed as Draco began his ministrations, the peels of innocent laughter contagious to the rest of the room. Even Hermione couldn’t help but smile at the sweet picture the two of them made. 

Draco looked up and spotted her at the end of the staircase and smiled. Hermione’s heart constricted at the sight. It was so  _ easy  _ to be his fake date, it almost felt real. Like he really  _ was  _ happy to see her.

“Draco and Harry, dears, will you help me in here please?” Hermione heard Molly call from the kitchen. 

Draco stood and walked over to Hermione with Teddy still in his arms, passing him over as Teddy whined at no longer being able to play. Hermione grabbed him and let him sit on her hip. During the exchange Draco leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Hermione’s cheek. 

If it were real, if this were real, it would have been second nature for him to show such an outward display of affection. But he was  _ him  _ and she was  _ her.  _ And they weren’t real. 

“Duty calls,” he winked at her before following Harry into the kitchen.

Hermione couldn't focus on the squirming toddler in her arms or the angry scoffs Ron was sending across the room or Ginny’s knowing look. The spot on her cheek that Draco’s lips had touched was tingling and her heart was fluttering wildly in her chest. 

He was much too good at pretending. 

Hermione turned her attention to Ron, who was now sneering and refusing to meet her eyes. It made her feel guilty. As much as this was the reaction she craved, it wasn’t fair to be rubbing it in his face, especially at his family’s home during the holidays. She felt like a real bitch.

Draco noticed her change in demeanor right away. He found her sitting on one of the porch swings outside looking over the garden where Teddy was ripping up long grass from the ground. 

He took a seat next to her and nudged her foot with his.  _ Are you okay? _

“I feel guilty.”

“Whatever for?” Draco’s face twisted up in confusion.

Hermione sighed, “For lying. I’ve basically ruined Ron’s entire Christmas and Ginny is practically planning our wedding already,” Draco snorted, “and I’ve dragged you out here when you could be doing… whatever it is you do.”

Draco looked at her for a long moment, “You’re so stupid sometimes.”

“Excuse me?” Hermione huffed and Draco waved a hand to dismiss her. 

“You’re not  _ lying.  _ I’m your guest, your  _ date  _ for Christmas. We’re friends, aren’t we? And friends spend the holidays together sometimes. You don’t have to confirm or deny anything, and you  _ certainly  _ don’t owe Ronald Weasley an explanation.”

Hermione looked away and tucked her bottom lip into her teeth.  _ Except friends don’t hold each other like you did last night. Friends don’t feel the way I feel for you. _

The thought shocked her so much her eyes widened. 

“Look Granger,” he continued. “If you want me to leave so you can enjoy your time here, that’s fine too. But everyone is having a good time. We’re all getting on, yeah?”

Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak after her revelation. Oblivious to her inner turmoil, Draco slung an arm over her shoulder and squeezed gently. Hermione wanted to melt into his strong, warm touch.

“You and Teddy should come inside before it gets cold. They have a fire going.” 

Hermione snickered.

“What?”

“You called him Teddy.”

Draco rolled his eyes, standing from the swing, making it move slightly back and forth, and extending his hand to help Hermione up. “You’re a cheeky witch, you know that?”

Hermione took his hand and hoisted herself up. Perhaps it was her newfound feelings influencing her, but she could have sworn he kept his hold on her for just a second longer than needed.

* * *

The rest of Christmas Eve went by without much incident. Draco had become a welcome guest in the Weasley home and it warmed Hermione’s heart. 

He and Harry found common ground with Quidditch and he stole Molly’s heart with his love for Teddy. Ginny, Arthur, and George were easy enough to come around after that and Hermione felt herself feeling happier and more relaxed than she had in days.

They were currently sitting in the Weasley living room, a fire roaring and hands filled with drinks and leftover food from dinner. 

Ron and Astoria had locked themselves away in Ron’s room and periodically they could hear their muffled arguments through the thin walls of the Burrow. 

Draco and Teddy were gone as well, the little boy’s yawns coming too close together and too loud to ignore. He had requested Draco take him to bed to read  _ Mr. Pickle and the Sleepy Dragon  _ because, as Teddy claimed, Draco always did the voices right. 

Harry had grumbled good naturedly that it was because  _ “Malfoy has a flair for the dramatics”  _ to which Draco offered to read  _ him  _ a bedtime story so he could see how it was  _ “really done.” _

She didn’t know where to go from here. She knew her feelings for Draco were growing stronger than just somewhat-friends who pretended to date each other to make their exes jealous. Did he feel the same? Did she dare tell him and ruin whatever relationship they  _ did  _ have if he didn’t reciprocate? 

The rest of the house had begun to sporadically leave and head up to their own bedrooms to turn in for the night. Soon it was just Hermione and George, who had fallen asleep on a plush chair with a pastry lying on his chest. 

She sipped her cider and watched the fire dim and die out. She wanted to wait for Draco to come down from tucking Teddy into bed but as the room got darker and colder from the lack of fire, Hermione decided to head up to bed without him. 

She crept quietly around a snoozing George and felt her way through the dim light to the staircase. She made it a few steps up before colliding with a strong, warm wall which made her tumble backwards and yelp as she began to fall from the stair. 

A hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Hermione tensed at the unfamiliar contact, but her shoulders relaxed when she heard Draco’s familiar snicker and saw the striking blonde hair above her. 

“I was just coming down to get you. I’m sorry, Teddy is a bedtime story hog and a very good bargainer. I was no match.” 

Hermione snorted, “He gets it from your side of the family.” 

“That he does, Granger. That he does.” 

Even though she was now steady on her feet, he had yet to let go of her arm. His hand wrapped gently around her wrist and his thumb pressed against her pulse, which she was sure was thrumming wildly. 

She cleared her throat, hoping he couldn’t see her blush in the low light, “I was just heading up to bed.”

“I’ll join you.”

He began to remove his hand and turned, but found he couldn’t move up to the next step. He gave Hermione a puzzled look when a glitter of light began to form above them. Green stems and bundles of red berries were growing slowly from just above them. Hermione gasped softly as the plant began to emit a soft, golden glow around them and kept them firmly in place. 

Hermione’s stomach flipped as Draco slowly followed her gaze up the ceiling. She expected him to sneer at it or even perhaps try to charm it away, but he assessed the mistletoe silently. 

“If… I think a kiss on the cheek would--” Hermione began.

Draco looked down from the plant to meet her eyes and she swallowed harshly, cutting off her own sentence. Tentatively one of his hands slid up to her shoulder and then, when she didn’t protest, cupped the back of her neck gently. 

He was taller than her, nevermind the extra few inches being a step above her gave him. He tilted her head back until her neck was almost completely taut and shivered as his long fingers unconsciously played with the small curls at the nape of her neck. 

She couldn’t breath. She didn’t know if she should look at his lips, which were parted slightly; pink and lush and wet as he poked out his tongue to moisten them. Or his eyes, which were the color of fresh ash from a warm fire; burning and intense. 

He closed his eyes, leaning forward just slightly so that Hermione knew he was waiting for her to meet him half-way.  He wanted her to want this, too. 

With one quick, shaky breath she stood on her toes, the hard wood of the stairs digging into her feet. But when she finally pressed her lips to his, her toes curled and her heart hammered in her chest. 

Draco pressed forward even as the golden hue of the mistletoe began to dissipate, pleased with its job well done. The fingers on the back of her neck gripped tighter, pulling her impossibly close as he deepened the kiss. 

Hermione was warm all over. It was like taking a drink of the finest whisky; burning in your throat until it tingles your entire body. Getting you drunk. Drunk on this. 

Draco parted his lips slightly, flicking out his tongue to run across the seam of her lips and ask for entrance. Hermione granted it eagerly, letting him take control of her mouth as his tongue dipped in to swirl against hers. She playfully nibbled on it and felt him smirk into the kiss, letting his hand reach forward and cup her jaw. 

Almost as soon as it started, it was over. The space was once again dark and cold without the light of the mistletoe guiding them together. Draco cleared his throat while Hermione licked her lips nervously, afraid of how he’d react. 

But he just smiled softly and took her hand again, “Merry Christmas, Granger.” 

“Happy Christmas, Malfoy.” 

* * *

She couldn’t sleep. 

Even as her body begged for sleep, her heart and mind raced wildly with the aftermath of the kiss. 

Draco was sleeping quietly next to her, an arm thrown over his eyes and snoring softly. How could she go back to the way things were after this?

It was supposed to be so easy. Draco was here to make Ron jealous, realize his mistake, and come crawling back to Hermione. And it would be a funny story they could share privately about their “fake Christmas dating experience.” 

She could have never imagined it would end up like  _ this.  _

Slowly, careful not to wake him, Hermione rolled from the bed and silently padded to the door. She needed some fresh air, some time to think about how she’d venture into this new territory with Draco. 

She passed George, who now had a stitched quilt thrown over him and was rumbling loudly in his sleep, as she made for the back door. 

Hermione jumped as she stepped outside and spotted a figure sitting on the porch swing. 

“Merlin, Ron, you scared me.”

He gave her a sheepish, guilty smile but said nothing. Instead, he gazed out over the garden.  Hermione walked towards him, taking the seat on the opposite end of the bench and pulling her coat tightly around her.

“What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Ron snorted. 

“I couldn’t sleep, obviously. Now you.”

Ron sighed, fiddling with his thumbs, “Astoria left. I think… I think it was a bad idea that I brought her. I guess I didn’t really know her.”

Hermione placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “Sorry--”

“No, I’m sorry,” He covered her hand with his. 

“Ron--”

“I was stupid. I--I--I got cold feet. I thought ‘could I really marry the only real girlfriend I’ve ever had?’ and that was so  _ stupid  _ and I’m sorry.” 

“Ron, look--”

He turned to face her suddenly, clasping both his hands over hers, “I know I was. I know. But I realize that now. And… And you can’t be serious with  _ Malfoy,  _ I mean--”

“Seriously, Ron, I--”

He lunged forward, smacking their lips together almost violently until Hermione reared back in shock. 

_ “Ron,  _ I’m  _ serious,”  _ she snatched her hands away from him. “I-- I  _ like  _ Draco. I really do.  _ You  _ left.  _ You  _ got cold feet.  _ You  _ second guessed our relationship, not me. Draco, he--”

Ron gave her an expectant look and Hermione sighed, defeated, “Draco doesn’t make me feel like I need to be something  _ different  _ to be good enough. He likes how much I value work because he does, too. He understands my passions, he never judges my ideas even if he thinks I’m crazy for them. He’s a prat, I mean  _ of course,  _ he’s  _ Malfoy.  _ But he’s… he’s different. Different than he was. Different… different than you.” 

Ron frowned, a look that at one point would make Hermione drop everything to make it go away. But now she could only feel pity. 

“I’m sorry, Ron. It’s over. Really this time.” 

His face was a cross between a grimace and a thin-lipped smile, “I know. I think I knew that. When… when you first came in yesterday. I haven’t seen you look like that in  _ years,  _ ‘Mione. Just happy. And I was so mad that it was Malfoy, I just ignored that it was  _ because  _ of him. He… The way he looks at you, I mean I don’t remember the last time we looked at each other like that. I don’t know if we ever did.” 

For as much as her heart went out to her friend beside her, it sang at the thought of Draco feeling the same way for her. Perhaps she  _ could  _ make something out of this. 

“You’ll still always be my best friend, you know that right?” Hermione said gently, nudging his shoulder with hers. “No matter what. Even when you break my heart or ruin Christmas,” she teased him. 

Ron snorted. After a moment he said, “I’m happy for you.”

“I am, too.”

They reached for each other, pulling themselves into a familiar hug that felt so different now. There was only platonic love left between them. 

Ron jumped back suddenly, his face pale and wide. “Ron, wha--”

Hermione turned to where Ron was staring behind her and jolted when she saw Draco standing there shaking slightly in the cold or maybe, with the way he was sneering and glaring at Ron, in anger. He was still in his night clothes: barefoot with no coat on as if he rushed outside. He was clenching his fists at his sides. 

“Draco--”

He turned his attention to her, the sneer slipping from his face into something cold, indifferent. Her chest constricted. 

“You weren’t in bed, I came to make sure you were alright. I see you are.”

“We were--” Ron began, but Draco cut him off. 

“You were exactly where you wanted to be, Weasley. No matter.” 

He turned on the balls of his feet and stormed inside, the heavy slam of the door knocking a few inches of new snow from the shingles. Without a backwards glance Hermione raced to follow him, the cold and wet ground seeping into the ankles of her pajama pants. 

By the time she made it inside, he was nowhere in sight. George was now awake and blinking frantically. 

“Wha’appened?” 

“Did you see where Draco went?”

George pointed up the stairs and opened his mouth again to speak, but Hermione blew right past him and up to their shared room. 

Draco was stuffing his clothes back into his luggage. His shoulders were tense and he was seething quietly. 

“Draco.”

He hunched up more, if that was even possible. His hackles rose in defense, but he continued to pack his bags silently. 

“Draco, it wasn’t what it looked like.”

He snorted loudly, it made her flinch, “Of course it wasn’t. You sneak out of bed with me to find a lonely, groveling Ron Weasley and you got exactly what you wanted,” he snapped the case closed. “Well, I’m very happy for you. It’s a Christmas miracle.”

“He kissed me,” Hermione stepped forward and cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder. He tensed further, a small grunt coming from his mouth. “But I stopped him.”

“Hm.” Draco’s back relaxed just slightly, but enough where Hermione could feel the muscles under her hand flex. 

“That hug… it was a goodbye. I don’t… he’s not who I want. Not anymore. And I told him that tonight.”

He turned to face her. The sun was beginning to rise outside their window. The orange and pink hues bouncing off the pristine white snow and casting shadows in the room. His face was guarded and unsure, he was vulnerable. 

“You mean that?”

Hermione stepped forward. In the light his eyes danced between hers, his cheeks still rosey from sleep and the cold. She pressed both palms against his chest and sighed. 

“I mean that.”

He licked his lips, his eyes flickering back and forth between hers to try and detect any deceit. “I don’t believe you.”

Hermione clasped his shirt more tightly in her hands, tugging slightly to bend his shoulders down before rising to meet his lips. 

“I’ll prove it.” she whispered against them. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr: dirty-mudblood.tumblr.com


End file.
